


White Wolf: Masters of the Night

by LucianCarter72



Series: White Wolf [2]
Category: Vampire: The Masquerade, Werewolf: The Apocalypse
Genre: Goth - Freeform, Occult, Screenplay/Script Format, War, Werewolf, White Wolf - Freeform, goth-punk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-16
Updated: 2019-07-16
Packaged: 2020-06-29 13:48:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19831510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucianCarter72/pseuds/LucianCarter72
Summary: In the second installment, the sheriff seeks out the anarchs, trying to manipulate them into a war with the Garou.





	White Wolf: Masters of the Night

EXT. PARKING LOT. NIGHT.

We see a man dressed in jeans and a western-themed leather jacket holding binoculars and smoking a cigarette. He is standing beside a black van. He turns and opens the door. Setting the binoculars down in the driver’s seat he picks up a cell phone and speed dials a number.

MAN (into phone): It’s me…yes this a secure line. (beat) I can’t be certain but it looks like Haversham is dead. (beat) Not sure if the furball made it out. But those things are slicker than a baby’s ass. (beat) They may not know. Anarchs aren’t exactly smart. (beat) Yeah, I can make sure they find out. You trying to stir the pot? (beat) That’s why you’re in charge. Get the fleabags to wipe out the Anarchs once and for all. (beat) I’ll get right on it. (beat) Yes my prince.

He hangs up, pushes the binoculars and phone aside and gets in the driver’s seat. He takes a last look at the flames.

MAN (to himself): Waste of a Victoria’s Secret.

He starts the van and drives off into the night.

CUT TO EXT. THE TRASHATERIA. NIGHT.

The Trashateria is a looming, four-story industrial night club in an otherwise industrial part of the outskirts of San Francisco. The parking lot is half empty and there is no line at the door. We see the black van from earlier pull into the parking lot. Once it parks the man gets out. He slowly heads for the door where a bouncer meets him. The bouncer seems to recognize him, and doesn’t look happy to see him.

MAN: Evenin’.

BOUNCER: What do you want?

MAN: I’m here to see him.

BOUNCER: We don’t want any trouble.

MAN: Not plannin’ to start any.

BOUNCER: Top floor.

The man pulls a money clip from his coat and hands the bouncer a twenty.

CUT TO INT. TRASHATERIA TOP FLOOR. NIGHT.

Soundtrack: “More human than human” White Zombie

The upper floor of the establishment seems to be set up for private parties. There are a number of couches, two pool tables, two pinball machines and a cigarette machine. There are only four people present. Playing pool are two young men. The first wears a leather jacket and jeans. The second wears a “No Logo” t-shirt.

Seated in the back booth, farthest from the door, is another man wearing an expensive suit and considerable gold jewelry. An attractive young woman in a fancy red dress is cuddled up next to him. A fancy goblet sits by the black man’s arm. Contrary to local bylaws the woman is smoking a cigarette in a long holder.

The door opens and the first man enters. Everyone else turns to look at him in shock and anger.

MAN (grinning): What’s up?

The two pool players move away from the table and closer to him, holding their pool cues like weapons.

MAN: Easy boys, I’m not here to hurt you.

The black man stands and speaks with a Haitian accent.

HAITIAN (with disdain): You have a lot of balls coming here, sheriff.

MAN: What kind of a welcome is that? I’m starting to think you don’t like me.

HAITIAN : Then you are thinking right.

MAN: Awww…that’s just harsh. And here I just came to have a civil conversation. So, how are things? Still pushing drugs on school children?

HAITIAN : Do not pretend you care about the humans Turner.

(We now have a name for the man and will use it from here out)

TURNER: Fair enough, DuPont.

DUPONT (sighing): Fine, I’ll play your game you turncoat. How are you? How does the Prince’s ass taste? And, what the hell do you want?

TURNER: I have news. And unlike the Nosferatu I’m giving it away.

DUPONT: And you assume I want your news? That I care about anything you have to say?

TURNER: Oh you’ll care.

Dupont sighs again.

DUPONT: Fine, tell me. And this better be good or I may just decide to end your unlife this very night.

TURNER: Haversham is dead.

All four looks shocked but the man in the leather jacket looks the most shocked, and angry.

LEATHER BOY: Murderer!

He comes at Turner, swinging the pool cue down at him. Turner’s reactions are superhumanly fast as he grabs the young man by his outstretched arm and flips him over onto his ass. Turner pulls the arm backwards and there is a pop as it comes out of its socket.

TURNER: Mind your manners, you miserable Caitiff. You are nothing to me.

LEATHER BOY: I loved her!

TURNER: Sucks to be you. But I didn’t kill her.

DUPONT: Then who did?

TURNER: One of the furballs.

Dupont raises his eyebrow.

DUPONT: A Garou?

TURNER: Whatever you Frenchies call them. A werewolf, yeah.

DUPONT: Let him go.

Turner shoves leather boy away. The downed vampire pops his shoulder back into place before standing.

DUPONT: Why tell me?

TURNER: Because otherwise you geniuses would blame me or The Prince.

The woman turns to Dupont.

WOMAN (Spanish accent): Why would a beast kill Haversham?

DUPONT (Cross): Not now.

TURNER: Anyway, that’s my news.

DUPONT: Fine. That’s your news. Why should I let you leave in one piece?

TURNER: Because right this minute you have a new threat on your hands. Why stir up an old one at the same time?

DUPONT: For all you know the beasts are after you just as much as us. They have always hated our kind.

TURNER: Maybe. In which case you want me in fighting form to fight them off.

DUPONT: Fighting form eh? Let’s put that to the test. Jaa! Test his fighting skills.

The Asian, Jaa, nods and assumes a fighting stance.

TURNER: Fine, I’ll teach your punk a lesson. Come on junior, let’s tango.

Jaa holds the pool cue like a quarterstaff, flipping it and turning it to demonstrate his skill.

TURNER (With disdain): This ain’t an exhibition boy, get to it.

Jaa moves in, swinging the cue. This time Turner catches the cue itself and easily snaps off the top three inches. Jaa tosses the stick away and assumes a martial arts stance. Turner fires off a big Haymaker but the Asian ducks it. The Asian fires off a strike of palm strikes to his opponent’s chest. Turner actually looks angry for the first time. Turner jabs Jaa in the right elbow then fires off a sharp kick to his left thigh. Jaa grabs Turner’s left arm and tries to flip him but Turner pulls free.

Dupont watches the fight intently. Leather boy is also cheering Jaa on. The woman just looks bored.

Turner bashes Jaa in the face with his forearm but Jaa holds his ground and fires off a series of knee strikes to Turner’s midsection. Despite their exertion neither man sweats, or even breathes heavily. Turner backhands Jaa in the face, knocking him backwards. But Jaa surges forward, inhumanly fast, and drives an elbow into Turner’s neck. Turner shakes it off and kicks Jaa in the midsection, doubling him up. Then Turner launches a big uppercut into Jaa’s face. The impact of the blow sends Jaa flying back almost ten feet to crash into a chair.

TURNER: How long have you been a vampire now? Two decades almost? And you’re punching me in the neck? What’s that going to do? Neither of us breath.

An angry looking Jaa gets to his feet.

DUPONT: Get him!

Jaa runs at Turner, leaping for a flying kick that connects to Turner’s forehead, knocking the sheriff over. Leather Boy cheers loudly. Turner looks at him like he’s an idiot.

TURNER: We’re not scoring on falls, dumbass.

Jaa comes at Turner but the older vampire cuts him off, Monkey Flipping him over his head. Jaa lands on the pinball machine, breaking the glass and sinking onto the bumpers of the game itself.

TURNER: Aww…that was a good game too.

Jaa pulls himself out of the machine, his shirt torn. He lets out a war cry in his native language.

TURNER: Fired up now?

The Asian surges forward, blurring from his speed. He explodes with a barrage of offense. Punches, kicks, elbows, knee strikes all striking with superhuman speed. Turner turtles up under the offense but stays on his feet. Finally Jaa stops and looks at Turner.

TURNER: Have fun? But now I bet you’re a little hungry. No blood left for more tricks?

Jaa’s eyes betray him; Turner is right. Turner starts packing around Jaa in a circle. Jaa turns as he moves, keeping his guard up.

TURNER: You fight like a human with super powers. Me?

He stops and face him.

TURNER: I fight like a vampire.

His arm blurs and, suddenly, he has Jaa’s arm by the right wrist.

TURNER: I’m fast too. But-

He snaps Jaa’s wrist.

TURNER: I’m strong too.

He drops the arm then, in another blur of motion, grabs Jaa’s ankles and upends him. He wrenches both knees out of their sockets then swings Jaa by the ankles and hurls him flying. Jaa sails through the air, coming crashing down on one of the pool tables so hard it breaks. Turner looks to Dupont.

TURNER: Guess I’ll be going. Unless you want to make this personal.

DUPONT: Get out of my sight.

TURNER: Gladly.

Turner turns and walks away, whistling as he does. He’s soon out the door and gone.

LEATHER BOY: You just let him go.

DUPONT: I’m not bringing The Prince down on us until I know what happened with Haversham.

He looks at Jaa and sneers.

DUPONT: Get him some blood. Pathetic!

CUT TO EXT. PARKING LOT. NIGHT.

Turner exits the club, the bouncer is nowhere to be seen. Turner is near his van when, suddenly, the lights in the parking lot all go out at once. Turner looks around, alert.

TURNER: What now?

Behind him something moves in the shadows. Or rather, the shadows themselves take shape into a floating arm. The arm moves in on Turner who, on instinct, turns as is slams into his face. It seems quite solid as it knocks Turner backwards. The arm flies in again, punching Turner in the stomach.

TURNER: A Lasombra? Here?

The arm comes at Turner again but Turner manages to get a grip around it, holding it at bay. Turner, despite the strength he has shown before, seems to be having trouble overpowering the shadowy arm. Finally he manages to wrap his arms around it and hold it in place.

TURNER: Now, where is your puppet master?

SPANISH VOICE: Looking for me?

Turner looks around and sees a Spanish man decked out in a crushed black velvet outfit, complete with a cape, that makes him look like he has stepped out of another time.

TURNER (furious): So some Sabbat punk wants to make a name for himself. Well, here’s what I think of that.

He strains himself and tears the shadowy arm to pieces. It dissipates into normal shadow as it is torn apart.

TURNER: What else you got?

SPANIARD: Plenty.

He waves his arms and two tendrils of shadow form in front of him.

TURNER: More again? You’re repetitive.

SPANIARD: My Shadow limbs are as strong as I. And we Lasombra are masters of Potence just as you Brujah are.

TURNER: Yeah, but how’s your Celerity?

Turner suddenly moves so fast all we see is a blur. It circles the two tentacles then zooms away. The Lasombra looks at his handiwork. The tendrils have been tied into a reef knot. He looks around. No sign of Turner.

SPANIARD: Coward!

Suddenly there is a blur in front of him and he is knocked back by a collision. There is a sound of crunching bone as his jaw is struck. He curses in Spanish. The blur comes at him again, this time striking the back of his knees. He falls to his ass as the blur resolves into Turner.

SPANIARD (mumbling due to a broken jaw): Caine curse you.

TURNER: That’s the problem with you Sabbat. You let that crackpot religion get in the way of your common sense. Now let’s take you to…

He is cut off as a wooden stake tip bursts through his chest from behind. There is blood on the wound, but it does not actually bleed. An invisible figure (Richard Roundtree) materializes behind Turner holding the stake. He is dressed in black, like a commando. The Spaniard heals his jaw then grins at him.

SPANIARD: Our “crackpot religion” makes us utterly loyal to each other. Can you say the same? (beat) Of course not. You are utterly paralyzed. Make peace with whatever Gods you follow Brujah. Your unlife is at an end.

COMMANDO (guttural, terse): You want the soul?

SPANIARD: No, avail yourself of it.

The commando smiles then bares his fangs. The Spaniard gestures and a fence of darkness surrounds them, blocking any prying eyes. There is a look of desperation in the eyes of the helpless Turner as the Commando sinks his fangs into his prey’s throat. Blood seeps from the edge of the wound as the commando feeds. Turner begins to shudder then his eyes roll back in his head. The Commando looks to be in ecstasy. Suddenly Turner’s “soul” – a ghostly image of him, briefly floats out of the body, silently screaming. The image is then sucked down the Commando’s throat like water rushing down a drain. The Commando removes his fangs. Turner’s body begins to quickly dissolve into dust, leaving only his clothes behind. The Commando’s face shows an incredible rush, combined with a sense of satisfaction. The satisfied look is shared by his companion.

SPANIARD: Take his clothes. His keys should be in there. We take his van and dump it.

COMMANDO: Why?

SPANIARD: Because the anarchs respect the Masquerade, just like the Camarilla. When Turner goes missing The Prince will blame the Anarchs and it will be an all out war.

COMMANDO: Then we fight?

SPANIARD: Then we invade! The city will belong to the Sabbat. Come, we go.

The commando fumbles through the clothes, shooing away a curious rat as he does, to find the van keys. The Spaniard gestures and the wall of shadows dissipates. He bundles up the rest of the clothes and walks the van, trying a few keys before he finds the right one. He tosses the clothes inside then climbs into the driver’s seat and unlocks the sliding side door. The Spaniard climbs into the van. Moments later it starts up, then drives off into the night, nearly running over the rat as it does.

Stillness for a moment. Then we focus in on the rat. It sits up and sniffs the air. Then it begins to shift and grow. Its limbs extend as its overall size grows. It’s hair disappears and it’s face begins to shift backwards. Soon, in place of the rat, stands a fully clothed man. His clothes, however, make him look like a homeless person.

HOMELESS MAN (to himself): Oh, this sounds fun.

BLACKOUT


End file.
